


Learning to Dance in the Rain

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Season/Series 11 Speculation, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The showdown with Lucifer left Castiel free, but fully human. Now he and Dean deal with the aftermath. That means teaching Castiel to do things like hunt. And burn bodies.</p>
<p>And cry.</p>
<p>AKA, The One Where They Finally Hook Up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Dance in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is basically a could-be-canon Destiel hook-up story, with some speculation on the rest of Season 11 and the fate of Castiel. There are vague spoilers, and it's possible I'm waaaaaay off-base with where the storyline is headed. Just FYI. :)

Castiel loved the rain.

He remembered when rain was new… in fact, he could remember the first time it rained. The first time, ever - before humans, before dinosaurs, even. When the world was silent and peaceful and there were just the fragile beginnings of life in the seas. There was no war, then; no governmental disputes, no nuclear power, no pollution, no threat to life except that “survival of the fittest” ruled the day. The first rain was the purest rain.

Castiel could remember, if he tried hard enough, that he had danced in it.

He didn’t dance in the rain anymore, but he did still love it. He did still find it peaceful. And if possible, he thought, he appreciated it more now. Now that he was… what he was.

For all of his millennia of celestial existence, it had taken less than one year of earthly residence to make him realize he’d never really  _ lived _ before.

That was six earth-years ago. A lifetime, no matter how long he’d been an angel before that. His human life started gestating the moment he took Jimmy Novak as a vessel, and it was birthed on the battlefield of Stull Cemetery. After he threw the molotov; after he was destroyed, and brought back into existence again. This time was for real; it was a more pure, perfect birth.

“Hey.” He was brought out of reverie by a light touch to his elbow. It was Dean, elbow to elbow, because the rain and cold had forced the hunter’s hands into the pockets of his dark overcoat. “Let’s roll.”

Castiel turned his head to give Dean his trademark grin - the one he was trying to teach to reach all the way to his eyes, the way Dean’s smile did. It was one of his favorite things about Dean Winchester. 

He had a lot of favorite things about Dean Winchester.

He’d been waiting for Dean outside the home of one Ms. Carol Herman, recently widowed, which wasn’t unusual for a woman in her mid-80s - except that her husband had appeared to her two nights prior, though he’d been dead and buried for over a week. Dean had gone inside to question the woman and Castiel had stayed behind, though he’d exited the Impala to lean against it and feel the rain fall on his face.

“Hey, thanks for coming along on this one, Cas.”

“Thanks for the invitation,” he returned as he went for the Impala’s back door on instinct before realizing Sam wasn’t with them. He opened the passenger door instead and settled into the seat. He hesitated when Dean didn’t start the car right away, and then reached to fasten his seatbelt. 

“Well, you know, if you’re serious about being a hunter, then I’m gonna train you to be the best. That means starting small, so. I thought this milk run would be a good start.”

“Then…” Cas squinted and looked away from Dean as they started down Ms. Herman’s street. “Why did I stay in the car?”

Dean idly drummed his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel. “Because I wasn’t positive it was a milk run,” he said with a sigh.

“You were trying to protect me.”

“Busted.”

“Dean…”

“I know, I know.” He sighed regretfully but kept his head straight, eyes focused on the road. To be fair, it was dusk, and the residential street lights glared off the wet pavement. Rain wasn’t falling very hard from above, but the conditions certainly messed with a person’s depth perception. Still, Castiel kept his head turned toward Dean, studying him intently until those green eyes were staring back at him. “Listen, Cas…”

“I lead whole armies in Heaven, Dean. I didn’t need protection then, and I don’t need it now.”

“I know. It’s just, you…” He sighed again and turned his eyes back to the road as he continued to speak. “You gave up forever for me, all right? You-- you  _ fell _ . You became human, all right,  _ mortal _ , and that means you could die. Now I get that we’re all probably destined to end in a bad way, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you go easy.”

Castiel’s lips parted on a reply that never came. He closed his mouth again after a beat. Dean meant well. And Dean wasn’t wrong. There was no going back from this, for any of them. Death meant death. No more second chances, no more reset button, no going back. “Where’s he buried?” He asked instead.

“Just up the road. Small towns like this, they’re pretty cut-and-dried. One cemetery. So, we’ll go back tonight, dig up Mr. Herman, salt and burn the bones and hopefully put him to rest.”

“We.”

“We,” Dean confirmed with a single nod of his head.

“You and me we, or you and Sam we?”

“You and me we. We we.” Dean cracked up at his own joke.

Cas didn’t, despite Dean’s guffaw and gestured attempt to explain why what he’d said was funny.

“Your very first grave desecration. Gosh, Cas, it seems like just yesterday you were nothing but a baby in a trenchcoat. You’re growing up too fast for my blood.”

He turned his head again to stare at the hunter; the comment ran perpendicular to the thoughts he’d been having about his existence just minutes before. But Dean’s eyes were focused on the road and he was wearing a trademark smile - one that said he was content, satisfied, relaxed. One that reached his eyes; one that Castiel would rather look at than question.

And so they remained in comfortable silence on the short drive back to their motel, where they found Sam stretched out on one of the two beds, laptop open on his thighs and feet extended and crossed at the ankle. “Hey!” He looked over as they walked in, “How’d it go?”

Dean held up a piece of paper from his pocket. “Burial location of the dearly departed Mr. Herman. Just a poor old soul, too attached to his wife to want to let go.”

“How long were they married?” The younger Winchester’s eyes had gone soft and he shifted, closing his laptop and setting it aside.

“What? I dunno, sixty-odd years, I think?”

“Hmm.” Sam just nodded, his eyes moving between Dean and Castiel as the pair stood in front of him, looking every bit the part of a couple of lovers in coordinated long coats. 

Dean caught his eye when the silence had gone on too long for his liking and raised both eyebrows. “What hmm?”

“Nothing. It’s just interesting.”

“Being with the same person for half a century is your idea of ‘interesting’?” Dean moved into the room and plopped down on the other bed. Castiel followed at a slower pace; he’d never been entirely certain where he was supposed to sit when it came to small rooms like this. Sam and Dean had shared these rooms for over a decade. They’d become comfortable in their routine as a duo; his presence, even if they didn’t say so, must throw that routine off-kilter.

“Yeah, I mean, think about it - all that time with the same partner, making memories, building a life, overcoming challenges, growing old together…” He shrugged and gave a millisecond of a half-smile. “Sounds kinda nice when you think about it.”

“You do realize that at this rate, the only people we’re going to do that with is each other.” Dean’s eyebrows raised again as he leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, head in his hands. 

“Dude. Gross.” But Sam’s eyes were still soft and they flitted between his brother and the fallen angel. Dean’s posture made him miss it, but Castiel was still standing, propped against the wall, and he couldn’t  _ not _ notice. He caught Sam’s eye, and Sam, in turn, gave him a slight nod and a tilt of his head in Dean’s direction, and then changed the subject. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Standard salt-and-burn. Should be easy. I’ll take Cas up to the grave after dark and we’ll take care of it.”

“You sure?”

Dean sat up and threw a glance back over his shoulder at Castiel. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta learn sometime, right?”

“Right. OK.” Sam was still doing that thing with his eyes, and the next time he caught Castiel’s gaze, he furrowed his brow and inclined his head toward Dean more definitively.

Castiel mirrored the brow furrow and shrugged, and that seemed to irritate Sam, who got up off his bed entirely and started to pace around the room.

“You OK, Sammy?”

At his brother’s question, Sam stopped, arms slightly held out to his sides, and looked at Dean for a long moment before turning his head to give Castiel the same study. Then he ran his hands through his hair, shook his head and announced, “I’m gonna get some air.”

And he left.

Dean and Castiel both stared at the closed door in surprise before their eyes turned to each other and Dean, perplexed, asked, “What do you think’s eatin’ him?”

“He does seem utterly at odds with something.” But at least there was a clear place for Cas to sit, so he circled around to take Sam’s place on the bed, facing Dean. “So.”

“So?”

“What happens now?”

“What do you mean ‘what happens now?’”

“I mean that normally, if you didn’t need me for something, I would just leave. But it seems that my decision… to fall… has left me with no place to go and nothing else to do but to be here, in this very small space, with you. It’s… uncomfortable.”

At his words, Dean’s face fell and he lifted sad eyes to study Castiel. “Is that really… is that how you felt? That we only needed you when we  _ needed _ you?”

“It did very much seem to be the way of things.”

“Well it wasn’t.”

“Right.”

“Right. So just…” Castiel watched Dean curiously, taking in the way the hunter rubbed his palms against his thighs; the way his shoulders were tense and he couldn’t seem to find a track for the conversation.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“If you’re concerned that I’m going to hold you to any of what you said when you confronted Lucifer, you shouldn’t be. I know that you had to break through to me, that you had to say what you had to say to reach me, and I’m grateful just for that. It’s enough.” He offered a tinge of a smile, hoping to ease the weight of the conversation.

Instead, Dean’s response was to shake his head and bury his face in the palm of his right hand. “Why…” He exhaled, as though he was trying to blow all of his emotions out of his lungs. When it didn’t work, he turned to face Castiel, eyes pleading. “Why do you have to go and be so goddamn perfect?”

Castiel’s mouth slid into the smallest of grins at that, but it wasn’t out of joy. “I’m far from perfect, Dean.”

“Says you.”

“Says everyone. The things I’ve done… the pain I’ve caused… I rebelled against my true nature. I alone caused civil war in Heaven.”

“And all for me.” Dean stood, and Cas felt paralyzed in his spot, much like he’d felt when Dean had said… what he’d said… and the look in the elder Winchester’s eyes said maybe he was about to lay it all out all over again. But instead he just said, in his quiet, rough manner, “You did it, all of it, for me. Sure you made mistakes, I mean hell, who among us hasn’t, right? It’s part of being human.”

He chose to stand then, too, because the height difference was becoming uncomfortable. “But I’m not. Human. Dean.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” Dean took a tentative step toward Castiel, and the former angel stayed rooted to his spot, letting the distance close between them. Another step, and they were close enough to touch, and then Dean’s fingers were just barely resting on Castiel’s on both sides of their bodies. The touch was so fragile, and Dean’s voice so shaky, that a single wrong move or stray sound or minute distraction might have shattered the moment entirely.

But there wasn’t any such thing. For once - for one moment in the hurricane of their forever - the stillness was allowed to exist.

“You have been human, Cas, from… hell. Probably from the moment I first called you  _ Cas _ . Forget what-- forget what you’ve done, forget where you came from, all right? Forget how we got here. Right now? Right now you’re just as human as I am.”

“What you’re asking is impossible, Dean. I can never forget. What I’ve done, what I’ve said, I--”

“Jesus, Cas, will just knock off the self-depreciation crap for one goddamn second and hear what I’m saying to you?”

Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes for a long moment in the way to which he’d long been accustomed. He’d seen Dean’s soul-- hell, he’d held it in his hands. He knew every inch of what made this man because he’d put it all together all those years ago, back when his mission was clear, his name was celebrated and his intentions were pure. Now… well, now he supposed he could still see Dean’s soul. Maybe, he thought, if he dared to really study those eyes, he was seeing the true beauty of that soul for the very first time. “I can never forget,” he enunciated, never breaking eye contact, wanting and hoping for Dean to see his soul, too, “because all of those things have brought me here to this moment. I have my memories, just as you have yours. I have my life experiences, just as you have yours.”

“Just like any human, ever. Free will brought us here. For better or for worse. Castiel.”

He couldn’t remember, try as he might, the last time Dean had used his full name. “Dean.”

“You’re never leaving me again, understand? I always need you.”

“Always?”

“Always have. Always will.”

“Hmmm.” This time, it was Castiel who moved them forward half a step - he curled his fingers into Dean’s palms and then slid them through the spaces, carefully and purposefully knitting the empty pieces of their hands together. “If I admit to you that I’m afraid…”

“Oh, trust me pal, I’m right there with you.” Dean’s voice was rough but quiet as he inclined his head just enough to rest his forehead against Castiel’s, so that they were breathing into the same small space.

“Fear is not a feeling to which I’m accustomed.”

“Well then I got your back because trust me, I’ve lived in fear most of my life. I’m so well acquainted with being afraid that I wear it like a second skin. So right now… you need to lean on me, hell, you lean on me. I got you.”

This, too, was a new sensation - the sound and feeling of his body coming alive for love. He felt his heart pounding so hard in his human chest that he was certain Dean could hear it. His breath came in shallow exhales and his mouth was dry and he thought… _is this how it is, for humans?_ _Every time?_ This feeling… it was unique to anything he’d experienced up to this point. He could only equate it to phrases that sounded contradictory: _wonderful pain. Welcome terror_. 

“Let go, Castiel.”

It was Dean’s use of his full name that finally broke him.

He sagged against the hunter and felt himself being caught and held upright; felt himself pulled close to solid warmth; and these tears, sliding down his cheeks… he couldn’t stop them. It was years’ worth of emotion pouring out of him like someone had broken a dam. Maybe, simile aside, that’s exactly what it was. Years’ worth of emotions, finally unleashed, letting themselves be seen and heard by the one person he’d always hid them from.

Somehow, they found themselves on Dean’s bed on their sides, bodies mirrored and paralleled, except that Cas was curled into Dean’s embrace, gripping his back as very human sobs racked his very human body. Somewhere in the middle, he managed to huff out, “I’m so sorry, Dean,” and the response was a gentle  _ shhhh _ and a reassuring hand smoothing his hair. It was remarkable, really, and he quieted at the realization that this was something humans did that angels did not. They  _ soothed _ . They clung to one another simply for the sake of  _ one another _ . He pulled his face out of Dean’s chest and caught his eyes again, and they were there looking back at him with patience, waiting.

He wondered, idly, how long they’d been waiting, if only he’d cared to ask.

He didn’t ask now either.

Instead, he leaned in and latched his mouth to Dean’s.

In the same instant, outside, the sky opened up and let loose a deluge so loud it sounded like a waterfall pouring down onto the roof of the motel.

The kiss lasted just long enough for Cas to want more, but when they parted, he found instead that he was comforted simply by Dean’s proximity, and the peaceful smile on his face. He gave one in return.

When he did, Dean’s smile widened.

“What?” Cas laughed -- hell, he  _ giggled _ and looked away. He’d never, in all his years of existence,  _ giggled _ .

“You know, I…” Now Dean laughed, but it was a softer chuckle from somewhere warm inside his chest. “Your smile.”

“It’s not much.”

“It’s everything.” This time Dean led the kiss, leaning in and cupping Cas’s chin between a barely there thumb and forefinger. “You just let me know how many more times I gotta compliment you before you start believing me.”

Castiel could only blush at that; he wasn’t anywhere near versed enough in human flirting or social graces to quip a response. But Dean seemed to know that; he would, Cas supposed, if any human was going to understand the fallen angel’s unspoken cues. 

“You know,” Dean reflected, flitting a cursory glance at the ceiling and the rain beyond it, “My mom, I… don’t remember a lot about her, you know. But I do remember… I do remember that she used to tell me that the rain was made of angels’ tears.”

“It’s not.” He bit back the response as soon as it was out, but it was too late, and he chanced a fearful glance at the man who now cradled him in a protective embrace.

“Oh, I know. Just… funny, how she said that, and after all these years, here we are, you and me. In the rain.” They fell into a reflective silence at that, and Castiel was content just to be close to Dean this way, in a way he’d always wanted but never been able to express. If this was all they ever did, he thought, it would be enough. Dean was still petting his hair with a gentle, soothing touch; he found that almost of their own accord, his fingers had begun to play with the third button on Dean’s shirt. And then the words tumbled out as though he had no control over them; simply that he wanted to share with Dean - today, tomorrow, and across the rest of what could well be a very short human lifetime - his memories from his former life. And this was a good memory.

“You know,” he said, speaking to the button, but moving his eyes up to meet Dean’s as he shifted to prop himself up on one elbow, “I remember the very first time it rained.”

Dean’s smile told him everything even before his voice said, “Tell me about it?”

“Earth was brand new. It was such a dangerous place for life… rough and rocky, desolate, empty. Dark. This planet was so new it hadn’t even seen its first real sunlight. There was a giant mass of land, all surrounded by sea, and on the shoreline… I stood with my brothers. Most of them stood back from the water’s edge, but a few - myself included - ventured down to let the water lap at our toes. Our Father smiled, I remember, when I alone bent down to wet my fingertips as well. And then… then from the sky there started to fall the most remarkable thing. Water. The same water I’d touched that my brothers were so afraid of… now we couldn’t escape it. It fell down upon all of us, there on the shore in the dark… and I remember…”  _ I remember Michael was stoic. I remember Lucifer was amazed. I remember Raphael was angry. I remember Gabriel threw a rock. I remember…  _ “I danced in it.”


End file.
